The Edge of a Coin
by Dark Fate
Summary: In order to establish his empire, Kain deliberately sought out the Tomb of the Sarafan from which to raise his vampiric sons. The task, however, was not so easy to accomplish.
1. Chapter 1

Rating: R for graphic gore and possible sexual situations.

Warnings: If you can't handle descriptive gore, sex, or (possible) yaoi, this fic isn't for you.

Disclaimer: Kain, Raziel, and etc. do not belong to me. If they did, do you honestly think I'd be writing fanfiction?

* * *

Kain quietly crept through the Tomb of the Sarafan. He was practically vibrating with sadistic glee. This would be one of his greatest and most ironic moments. He would change those that despised vampires into the very thing they hated most.

He passed miscellaneous tombs without so much as a cursory glance. He knew exactly which of them would become his faithful children. He would change not the lowly soldiers but the high warrior priests.

A satisfied smirk came to Kain's features as he entered a large, open room. He knew that this had been a grand structure when created, but time had worn it down. He had no time to admire the architecture, for his eyes were all for the six sarcophagi he had discovered.

Oh yes, this was what he'd been searching for. He went over the names inscribed on the stone carefully. Melchiah, Dumah, Zephon, Raziel, Rahab, and Turel.

Raziel? The name itself intrigued Kain. A quick glance around told him that Raziel's tomb was the most elaborate of them all. It was likely that this one had been their leader.

Kain grinned widely as he drank in the irony of it all. Their leader would become his first-born child. It was almost too good.

Without a second thought, Kain strode to the sarcophagus, sank claws into the stone lid, lifted it, and tossed it to the middle of the room as if it weighed no more than a feather. The impact shattered the lid, resounding shockwaves of sound echoing within the chamber.

The dry odor of old death assaulted Kain's nostrils as he peered into the sarcophagus. While the stench was vile, it was infinitely preferable to the slaughterhouse/outhouse smell of fresh death.

The corpse within had decayed to nothing but bones incased in rusted armor. Acting on impulse, Kain caressed the armor with a curious claw. It was so brittle that it began to crumble even under such a light weight. He drew his hand back for fear of causing harm. He would not mess this up.

Of course, it didn't help that he had no idea quite how to raise this one as a vampire. All Kain had to work with were miscellaneous bits of information from Vorador and what he himself had experienced when Mortanius had raised him. Once again, he knew that this would be different because the corpse was so much older.

Snorting in disgust, Kain dismissed his anxieties. They would do him no good. Only action would show him how. After all, there were no more vampires from which to receive counsel. If he could not do this, the bloodline of vampires would die with him. Nosgoth's imminent demise would be for nothing. Most importantly, he could not overtake Nosgoth without an army. He would not be denied.

It was with this in mind that Kain kneeled beside the coffin. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to remember exactly what it was that Mortanius had done to raise him. The best Kain could recall was power, and a great deal of it, flowing through his body.

Kain sighed in dismay. He was certainly no necromancer and had no way of knowing if he could duplicate Mortanius's feat. A growl of frustration rumbled in his throat. If he'd known that it would come to this, he'd have forcefully extracted the information from the bastard before killing him.

His resolve solidified. If that simpleton could do it, then the process couldn't be that hard, so why was it that he was so nervous? He was Kain, slayer of the Circle. What did he have to fear from this? Was it merely the prospect of failure that stayed his hand? Did he even have the propensity to accomplish the task ahead of him?

Closing his eyes tightly in agitation, Kain grumbled to no one, "Shut up!"

Fangs bared in anger, he laid a tentative hand on the crumbling chest plate, being careful not to cause any more damage. Kain reached within himself and shoved raw power, for lack of a better term, into the desiccated corpse. He watched with rapt fascination as the bones began to move and renit themselves together. Sparse muscle tissue seemed to grow from the bones, and dry, cracking skin came forth to cover it.

Thin, stick-like hands grasped at his arm as the creature tried to rear. Kain had expected to be revolted at this task, but the power that made this mummy-like monstrosity live was his own power. It flared along his skin, and he felt an answering flare of energy from what would be his firstborn son. The reaction sparked a chain of affection so deep within him that it brought his breath in a gasp.

That one small peek into the creature's power granted Kain the knowledge he sought. It needed blood, for Kain could restore it only so far with just energy. He brought a claw to bear and with little more than a grimace, sliced into the wrist that the soon to be vampire gripped in its desiccated hands. He allowed it to lower his injured wrist to its mouth.

A strange, pleased sensation washed over Kain as the creature sucked at his bleeding wrist. Once again, he knew that he should be horrified that this thing, which was still more corpse than living flesh, was feeding from him; however, all he could feel was this odd satisfaction and a deep fascination at the sight of it.

Muscles began to stretch and bloom under the harsh, flaking skin. He heard sharp sucking noises as his fledgling's mouth and throat started to function normally. Kain sensed that the wound had closed and pried his wrist from the creature. However, the fledgling did not give up easily. It gave a keening wail, reared up and out of the coffin, and tackled Kain to cold stone floor.

The creature wrapped thin, half-formed arms around Kain's waist as if he were the only tangible thing in the world. Kain's eyes widened in mild shock when the fledgling clung tightly to him. He could never remember a being of any sort depending on him in such a way.

Alarm washed through him as he felt the creature begin to slip away, to die. In his haste, Kain cut his other wrist far too deeply, but all that mattered to him in that moment was to save this fledgling. He held his bleeding wrist close to the creature's face, and arms that had been wrapped firmly around his waist released him.

Frantic, half-formed hands gripped his forearm, and the fledgling began to feed once more. Kain became dimly aware that he was losing far too much blood, but he knew that if he stopped the creature, this Raziel, from feeding too soon, it would die. All this would mean nothing.

When the fledgling finally relinquished the wound, Kain was close to unconsciousness, floating on the brink of oblivion. Once again, his vampiric son wrapped arms securely around his waist and pressed the side of his face into Kain's stomach. Impulsively, Kain stroked a careful claw through the fledgling's raven hair, his hand coming away with bits of dry skin. Upon closer examination, Kain found that healthy, pristine skin had grown under the cracked, flaky layer of dermis.

The fledgling raised his face up enough to blink midnight blue eyes at Kain. The creature's voice was rough and distorted, "Father?"

Unable to help himself, a pleased grin etched itself on Kain's features, and he began to absentmindedly stroke his son's hair again, "Yes, Raziel. Yes."

His son resumed his death-grip on Kain's waist. A rough sigh left the older vampire. They could not stay the night here. There was far too much danger in it. His fledgling was frail, and Kain himself was much too weak from the loss of blood.

Kain mustered up the strength for one teleportation. He had the perfect place in mind. It was deserted, and no human would bother them there. Vorador's mansion.

He and his son disappeared from the tomb in a blinding flash of light.


	2. Chapter 2

Rating: R for graphic gore and possible sexual situations.

Warnings: If you can't handle descriptive gore, sex, or (possible) yaoi, this fic isn't for you.

Disclaimer: Kain, Raziel, and etc. do not belong to me. If they did, do you honestly think I'd be writing fanfiction?

A/N: Feel free to beat me with sharp/blunt/painful things for taking so long! Honestly, I had the second chapter of this fic finished about a month after I posted the first one, and then my computer went tits-up, taking the data with it. Murphy's Law, I guess... Anyway, I rediscovered my inspiration for this fic while listening to the _Silent Hill 2_ soundtrack. The main theme, 'Promise,' just seemed to smack of Raziel. If you've never heard the soundtrack, I'd heartily recommend it. ;)

* * *

Raziel was quite sure that there was no word in any of Nosgoth's many languages that could encompass his agitation. What he was doing was utterly stupid, but the young vampire galvanized himself in his anger. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop in Uschtenheim, the snow underfoot exploding in dazzling white clouds in his wake. Kain had explicitly ordered him not to hunt in Uschtenheim alone, yet here he was, indulging in self-validated fury, disobeying his sire. 

And why was he raging across the rooftops of Uschtenheim? He felt jilted, betrayed, insulted, and so much more. Kain had left the sanctuary of the mansion that had once belonged to a great vampire named Vorador, or so Raziel had been told. His sire had left him there with instructions to hunt only from the surrounding area and not to draw attention to himself. His creator had set out to raise another vampiric son.

_He doesn't _need_ another son! Am I not powerful enough on my own?!_

Of course, the truth was that the young vampire knew that Kain's lofty goal of overtaking Nosgoth could not come to fruition under the power of only two of them. However, that did not take away the sting of the idea, and swimming like a great kraken underneath the threadbare anger lay jealousy. Raziel remembered well all the attention he had received from his master in the first few weeks of his vampiric life. The thought that another would be in Kain's good graces made him feel like he'd drank a gulp of hot lava.

The fledgling shoved the thoughts from his mind. He would not be able to hunt properly with his mind spiraling in circles. Raziel had come across a stroke of luck in the form of an empty alleyway. Uschtenheim was slowly losing its population, but the city was still bustling by the standards of Nosgoth. That fact made it quite difficult to hunt undetected unless one could find an abandoned area.

In fact, he would not have taken the risk of traveling in his current fashion if the buildings in Uschtenheim weren't so gargantuan. Mortals had a startling tendency not to look up, and even if they did, those few would likely talk themselves into thinking that they had imagined it. It was amusing that the humans' own architecture and psyche worked against them in this way.

Raziel knelt and dug his still-developing claws into the edge of the roof to keep his footing. He was thankful for the thick wood the humans here used to make their dwellings. It allowed him a good grip, and it made certain that the humans within them would not have heard him leaping from roof to roof. However, he remained careful, for the snow and ice could make even the most experienced vampire ungainly in his balance.

Taking a deep breath, the young vampire readied his mental prowess. For one such as he, it was sometimes difficult to bait a human into coming his way without the creature realizing exactly what was going on.

Midnight eyes sifted through the stream of humans moving to and fro until his gaze set upon a particular human female. She looked healthier than many of her brethren roaming about her, and that would be her undoing. Raziel extended his psyche to barely brush hers, placing the impulse that there was certainly something interesting in this particular alleyway.

Just as the young vampire had hoped, the human's head snapped around as though she'd noticed something flitting through the alleyway. A look of cautious curiosity made its way across the girl's features before she ever so hesitantly made her way into the passage. If she had merely remained at the entrance to the alleyway, it would have been far too dangerous, but as predicted, she wandered far away from prying eyes. A delighted smirk tugged at the fledgling's lips. He knew he could not simply drop down upon her from his perch. That would give the human far too much time to make unwanted noise.

Instead, Raziel focused his mind upon another task. He had recently mastered a dark gift his sire was quite fond of and had made Kain terribly pleased in doing so. It took more concentration than the young vampire would have like to admit, but the result was rewarding all the same. His body began to feel extremely light to the point that Raziel felt like he was floating through the air. The change began at the outer fringes of his of his flesh and rapidly progressed. Soon, his body was nothing more than a fine mist.

Raziel leaped from his perch and landed soundlessly behind the girl. He quickly abandoned the mist form for his true one and lunged forward. His left arm wrapped swiftly around her torso, pinning her arms effectively. His right hand deftly found her throat before the very knowledge of her predicament could sink in.

The fledgling extended his claws as far as they could go and plunged them into the soft tissue, slitting not the whole throat but only the windpipe. That same hand pulled back to grasp a fistful of surprisingly soft white-blond hair. He used that handhold to jerk her head back, careful not to break her neck in the process.

With her only source of air effectively cut off, Raziel turned the girl in his grasp to better facilitate draining her. It was a trick that his master had taught him on their very first hunt. The punctured windpipe made sure that there was no breath with which to scream, but the hunter had to make absolutely certain that the prey's head did not dip forward. Such an action would bring the torn flesh together and allot for some amount of airflow.

Panic-stricken emerald eyes rolled this way and that in the hopes of spotting some form of salvation from her death. The fledgling immediately checked to find that while the girl was indeed badly bleeding, it was not the copious amount that came with a punctured artery. Raziel met her terrified gaze, grinned savagely, and sank fangs into the side of her butchered neck.

Soft sucking noises filled the air of the passage as the young vampire fed. He still wasn't strong enough to use telekinesis to feed from a distance yet, and Raziel wasn't sure he ever wanted to. There was something almost _arousing_ about being pressed to the bucking, thrashing body of his prey while he drew life away. There was something viscerally _satisfying_ about crunching flesh between his teeth as the warm blood rushed down his throat.

Gradually, the girl's struggles ceased entirely. The fledgling struggled against his nature to release that tempting flesh before all blood was drained away. It was necessary in this day and age, his master had told him, to make their kills look like a werewolf or an extremely rare demon kill. If the corpse was completely bloodless, then it would be equally prudent to write 'VAMPIRE KILL' on the victim's forehead.

Raziel dug his claws into the cooling flesh of the human's throat and tore it to ribbons. No fang marks would be left behind. He allowed the body to fall bonelessly to dirty cobblestones. Kneeling beside the corpse, he hacked at the corpse, taking special care to scatter organs here and there. When he was finally satisfied with the gory mess he'd created, he leapt back to the rooftop from whence he'd come.

The fledgling noted with disdain that his boots were spattered with blood. With keen vampire sight, he checked the area of his kill to make sure he'd not tracked it around or left prints in the blood splatters. Fortunately, it was clear. Raziel mumbled curses as he used snow to wash away the blood from his boots. The handfuls of snow began melting against his stolen heat, and the flesh of his hands burned and sizzled.

He finished the task quickly and wiped his agonized palms on the leather pants he wore until the burning faded. They were only surface skin wounds and would heal soon. The young vampire flexed his fingers experimentally and was rewarded with a sharp sting.

A quick movement below caught his eye. In a flash, all his attention was focused on the central square of the town. The humans were dragging one of their own, kicking and screaming, to the middle of the area. Mortals were milling around excitedly as the struggling man was dragged onto a rather rickety wooden structure.

_A hanging. How very quaint._

"…..those two girls? They _say_ he's a werewolf, but I dun see why he ain't changed an' tore everyone apart." Raziel caught the snippet of conversation from two males passing near the alleyway. Instantly, he focused his hearing to catch another piece of information.

"Don't matter anyway. Those girls were all torn ter shreds an' all," the other man responded. "He's the only good suspect. An' besides, werewolves can't transform without a full moon!"

Raziel had heard enough. It was clear enough that this human that was having a noose carefully looped about his neck was innocent. About a week previous, he and Kain had gone hunting in Uschtenheim, and it was entirely likely that this mortal was taking the blame.

The fledgling's head cocked to the side in an expression of catlike curiosity while stronger humans restrained the innocent one. The difference in strength between the humans was very interesting. As a fellow mortal suddenly jerked a lever that unhinged the trapdoor beneath the condemned, an idea blossomed in his mind like some awful flower. If he, an outsider, could admire the strength some humans had over others, wouldn't it be magnified had he known them personally? Moreover, could the same be said for vampires?

A slow smile tugged at Raziel's lips while he watched the forsaken mortal's legs kick and spasm. The creature's neck had not broken.

Even as young as he was, he knew exactly what he would have to do to possess Kain's admiration. Power was what his sire needed to overtake Nosgoth. If Raziel had _that_, then he could retain his master's attention. As long as he was _superior_, it wouldn't matter how many brothers he had.

He chuckled darkly as he headed stealthily back toward the sanctuary of the mansion.


End file.
